Morning walk #2

This series was born from a quiet morning walk — a spontaneous wander along the shifting edge where the city begins to dissolve into countryside. No fixed destination, no map, no purpose other than to follow curiosity and let the landscape guide my steps.

It’s a way of walking inspired by the situationist dérive — a kind of drifting through space, where attention becomes porous and open, and the ordinary reveals unexpected beauty. I passed crumbling warehouses and overgrown roundabouts, silent parking lots bathed in early light, footpaths that led nowhere and then somewhere again. Slowly, the lines blurred: asphalt gave way to dirt, fences to hedgerows, and the background hum of traffic thinned into birdsong.

These photos are traces of that walk — not a documentation, exactly, but a record of moments that felt worth noticing. A gate left ajar. Light catching on tall grass. The way a new building leans against the memory of a field.

In times when everything feels mapped, planned, and optimized, I find relief in these aimless explorations. They remind me that places still have edges — and that there’s something quietly radical in simply walking, watching, and letting the landscape speak.